


A Road Less Travelled

by LittleMissFandomWorld



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Death Eater Trials, Death Eaters, F/M, Families of Choice, Family, HP: EWE, Life After Hogwarts, Not Canon Compliant - Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Post-Hogwarts, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovery, the long road to recovery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-21
Updated: 2016-04-19
Packaged: 2018-05-28 02:36:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6311872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleMissFandomWorld/pseuds/LittleMissFandomWorld
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was a Saturday when it all became too much for Molly Weasley to hold in any longer. In light of Molly's breakdown, Hermione steps in the fill the gap and keep the Weasley family afloat.  Being Molly is harder than it seems.</p>
<p>After years of stress and terror, the path back to a normal life isn't as smooth as they might have hoped.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. When It All Gets To Be Too Much

**Author's Note:**

> Hello. Fancy seeing you here!
> 
> This is a story I’ve been planning for a number of years, and with the help of my darling sister and editor, I’ve finally started to write it. Actually, this is the story before the story I wanted to write, the one that makes the story I want to write make sense. Confused? Me too.
> 
> Please let me know what you think – constructive criticism is very much appreciated. Insults are not. If you don’t like something, feel free to tell me, but please give me some reasoning. “Your story sucks and you suck at writing” is neither kind nor helpful. Tell me what sucks, and I’ll grow to become a less sucky writer. :)
> 
> We start three weeks after the Battle of Hogwarts.

Chapter One – Too Much

It was a Saturday when it all became too much for Molly Weasley to hold in any longer. The years of living in constant fear, the deaths of close friends, a year of not knowing where Ron was, Ginny at Hogwarts under the reign of those Death Eaters, George who had yet to leave his old room, and Fred…

Really, it was surprising that she’d managed to hold on as she had. Now, however, she broke down. The cast-iron walls of her control began to shudder, and ripped apart with a scream of tortured metal. The flood of emotion swamps her, wave after wave crashing down. Never pausing long enough for her to catch her breath. Never pausing long enough to find something to hold onto. No lift raft, nothing to cling to. Wave after wave, swamping all her feeble attempts at control.

Finally, it becomes too much to bear, and the only thing Molly can do is withdraw; hide herself within herself. Shut down.

\-----

It was Ron who found her. She was sitting at the kitchen table, staring at the wall, with tears slowly drying on her cheeks.

‘Mum?’

Responding took energy she wasn’t sure she could find.

‘Mum? What’s wrong?’

She wanted to reassure him, but she couldn’t seem to find the controls. Ron shook her shoulder gently.

‘Mum, you’re starting to worry me. Mum?’

She was trying, she really was. But she just couldn’t make it work, her mouth, her body, and it all too such an effort. She didn’t want to worry him, she really didn’t, but she couldn’t seem to do anything about it.

‘Ron? What’s the matter?’

There was someone new, a voice that should have been familiar. She couldn’t seem to care long enough to identify it… That alone should have worried her, but worry seemed beyond her grasp. Any emotion did, really.

‘It’s Mum. She’s just... sitting here, shaking. She won’t talk to me Hermione. She won’t even look at me.’

Hermione. Ginny’s friend. Ron’s girlfriend. Hermione…

She was trying to hold on to her thoughts, but they just kept slipping through her fingers, dancing just beyond her grasp.

A cloud of bushy brown hair obscured her vision.

‘Molly,’ a gentle voice prompted. ‘Molly, can you look at me, please?’

She tried, she really did, but it just wasn’t working. Gentle hands took hers. Molly noticed that they were warm, so different from her own. She was cold; she was always cold, ever since… Walls clamped down on the thought, and Molly withdrew further. Not going there, it hurts. She had to protect herself from the pain, or it would overwhelm her again.

‘Molly, we’re going to take you upstairs to bed, alright? You have a nice lie down, and I’ll look after everything.’

Gentle hands were helping her to stand, and then her youngest son was there, helping her up the stairs. As she hesitated, he reassured her.

‘Don’t worry, Mum. Hermione’s going to finish dinner for you. You just have a rest.’

As she allowed herself to be tucked into bed, Molly almost wondered at her lack of protest. She never let anyone take over her kitchen. Her kitchen was her kingdom. She wondered why it didn’t worry her more.

She was distracted from her vague thoughts by quiet voices just outside her door.

‘What’s wrong with her? Why isn’t she… doing anything? Hermione, what’s wrong with my Mum?’

‘I think things have just… caught up with her, Ron. She’s got a lot on her plate. Losing Fred, almost losing Ginny, not knowing where half of us were for the last year. Really, I’m amazed she hasn’t broken down before now…’

As the voices faded, Molly relaxed. Someone, at least, had an inkling of how she was feeling, and wasn’t going to push.

\-----

She started with dinner. With Molly Weasley out of commission, someone had to feed the ravenous Weasley tribe, and she’d volunteered.

It was impossible to describe the variety of expressions present that night. Hermione walked out of the kitchen, a trail of dishes following her to the table. Soups, a stew, casserole, and freshly baked bread, made the Muggle way.

‘Hermione?’ Ginny’s tone left room for a whole world of answers.

‘It’s fine,’ she reassured everyone. ‘Molly’s not feeling herself, so she’s gone to bed. I’m just making sure you’re all getting fed.’ She ended with a smile, and she could feel the whole table relax.

 

‘She’s really alright?’ Arthur Weasley asked, still concerned for his absent wife.

‘She’s fine,’ she repeated with a smile. ‘Things became a bit much for her, I think. She’s sleeping now, but I’m sure she won’t mind if you check on her.’

There was movement around the table as everyone started to stand. Years of war meant that everyone was still on edge. The fear of losing someone else still burrowed in their hearts.

‘Not everyone. She needs rest. I’m sure she’ll be up and about in no time, as long as she’s not constantly bombarded with questions!’ Hermione’s tone softened. ‘Look, I know you’re worried about her; I am too. But give her some time. She only started feeling off this afternoon.’

Everyone settled back into their chairs again. ‘Now, soup, anyone?’

 

The meal had gone well, though Hermione did notice a few hesitations around the room before people began eating. She assumed they were all still worried about Molly. After all, Ron couldn’t still be holding a food grudge from the Horcrux Hunt, surely.

Once dinner was finished she gathered the dishes and set them to scrubbing. It was times like these that she loved magic. The pile of dishes left over from a Weasley dinner would have taken her hours by hand.

‘Is there pudding, Hermione?’ Ron’s voice rang through the open door. Hermione jumped at the sudden loud noise. Honestly there was no need to shout.

There was a quiet grunt and a not so quiet ‘Hey!’

‘Honestly Ronald, stop badgering the girl. She’s done an amazing job managing to feed the lot of you, and now you’re asking her about-‘

Ginny’s admonishments were cut off by Hermione’s entrance. ‘Is coconut ice cream alright with everyone?’

There was a slightly stunned silence, which was broken by Bill. ‘I think I’m in love.’

Percy elbowed him. ‘I wouldn’t say that too loudly if I was you. Fleur’s sitting right here.’

Bill turned to his brother. ‘Fleur doesn’t come bearing coconut ice cream. No offence, love.’

Fleur smiled. ‘None taken. Ze way to a Weasley man’s ’art is through ’is stomach.’

Bill grinned. ‘Never was a truer word spoken.’

The table laughed, and any tension was dispelled. Hermione held up the scoop. ‘Ice cream?’

\-----

Hermione pushed open the door silently and peered into the darkened room beyond. Molly lay on the bed, just as she and Ron had left her.

‘Molly?’

There was no response, though Hermione thought she saw Molly’s eyes flicker briefly to the door.

‘I’m just going home now, but I’ll be back in the morning to see how you are. You rest up and I’ll see you tomorrow.’

Again, she was greeted with silence, so she shut the door just as quietly as she’d opened it, and headed back downstairs, making her goodbyes as she passed various Weasleys and adopted Weasleys. She ran into Bill and Fleur at the fireplace.

‘Heading off?’ Bill asked.

‘Yeah. I’ll be back in the morning to see how she is. You two off home?’

‘Fleur’s eager for it to just be us two again. Not that having you all stay wasn’t great, and you’re welcome to come again anytime, but…’

‘We loved ’aving you, but ze war is over now, and I want to go ’ome. We all need time to… recover, I theenk.’

‘I completely understand. I’d like to curl up in bed and sleep for a couple of days. No more worry, no more stress. There’s a lot to do…’

‘But it can wait. You go home, Hermione. You look like you haven’t slept properly in months.’

‘Thereabouts. Night Bill, Fleur.’

‘Goodnight, ’Ermione.’

\-----

When Hermione arrived back at the Burrow early the next morning, she was greeted with silence. It was not a comforting sound. The kitchen was deserted, the table was bare. She tiptoed upstairs, and passed closed bedrooms doors, faint snores coming from behind more than a few. She glanced at her watch. If they didn’t hurry, they were going to be late for work, every single one of them.

‘Right, Weasleys!’ she called, banging on doors as she walked past. ‘Breakfast’s in ten minutes! If you’re not there, you miss out, and if you don’t get moving, you’re all going to be late for work! Up!’

‘’Ermione? Wa’tch yellin’ for?’ Ron’s tousled head stuck out from a door on her left.

‘Look at the time, Ronald.’

‘Eh?’ There was a pause as the head was withdrawn. ‘Bloody hell! Harry, get up, we’re late! The store’s meant to open in half an hour!’

There was a thump, and an exclamation of pain. Hermione smiled as she headed back downstairs. Boys.

 

Ten minutes later, the table was crowded with Weasleys hurriedly eating pancakes. Hermione hid a snicker as she watched the usually immaculate Percy try to eat with one hand and comb his hair with the other. The mighty Percy Weasley, brought down by a comb. Smiling, she took it from his hand and fixed the unruly hair herself. ‘There you go. Chop-chop, you’re all going to be late.’

With many quick goodbyes and many thanks for the breakfast, the table emptied as fast as it had filled. The crowd moved towards the fireplace with much jostling and muttered complaints. Hermione was vividly reminded of Hogwarts breakfasts. Soon, only she and Ginny were left.

‘Ginny, what does your Mum usually do for George? I haven’t seen him since, well…’

There was a pause, broken by Ginny taking a deep breath and pasting a smile on her face. ‘Mum usually takes a plate up to him. He doesn’t come out at all, so far as we can tell, and she didn’t want him to starve.’

Hermione grimaced. ‘What about last night? I didn’t even think, I was so busy… he was probably starving.’

‘Don’t worry. I took some soup up for him after dinner. The bowl’s probably waiting for us now. I kept telling Mum we shouldn’t encourage him to stay in his room, but she didn’t want to make it hard on him. Hermione, it’s been nearly two weeks since anyone’s seen him. He went in there straight after Fred’s funeral, and he hasn’t come out since. We’re all really worried.’

‘Let’s see what we can do. We should probably check on your Mum first, though.’

Ginny nodded, and they headed up together. Opening Molly’s bedroom door quietly, they walked in.

Molly was where Hermione and Ron had left her the day before, though someone had tucked her in.

‘Dad and I changed her last night. She didn’t say anything, didn’t do anything. She just lay there, looking straight through us. It was like she couldn’t see us, like she wasn’t seeing anything. Dad won’t say anything, but he’s really worried about her. Losing Fred hurt him; losing Mum would kill him.’

Hermione walked over to the bed, and put held Molly’s hand in her own. It was clammy. Molly didn’t look at her, just kept staring at the wall behind her.

‘Molly, are you feeling any better? Is there something I can get you?’

There was no response, not that Hermione expected any. Seeing Molly like this, she thought it would be rather a while before she was up and about, and even longer before she was back to some semblance of her sunny, welcoming self. Until then, Hermione wanted to make things as easy as possible for her second mother to recover. Molly had opened her heart and home to the Muggleborn witch time and time again, and this was the least Hermione could do to repay her overwhelming kindness.

‘I might bring some tea up later,’ Hermione said, smiling brightly, though she was crying inside. ‘Ginny and I are going to take George his breakfast now, so we’ll come back later.’

With a final squeeze of the older woman’s hand, Hermione walked back to the door, where Ginny was waiting.

‘D’you think –‘

Hermione cut Ginny off with a finger to her lips, and nodded towards the door they’d just exited. She walked down the hall a little way before speaking. ‘Just because she’s not responding doesn’t mean that she can’t hear us. I’m fairly certain she’s having a nervous breakdown. My mum had one when I was seven, right after her brother died. She didn’t get out of bed for a week, and didn’t talk to anything for nearly a month. She still doesn’t like talking about it.’

Ginny had gone pale. ‘What can we do?’

Hermione smiled. ‘What you’re doing. Love her, support her, and take away the worry. Don’t force her to do anything – yet. It may come to that stage, but she’ll work things through by herself. She’s been under a lot of stress for a long time, Gin. She’s exhausted. She needs time to recover.’

Ginny was silent for a moment, then nodded. ‘Let’s feed George, shall we?’

Hermione let out a sad-sounding chuckle. ‘You make him sound like an exhibit in the zoo.’

Ginny gave a wry smile. ‘At least you see the animals at the zoo.’

\-----

The sign read ‘Gred and Forge – Pranksters Extraordinaire’. Hermione knocked.

‘George, its Hermione.’

She didn’t expect an answer, and she didn’t get one.

‘Your mum’s not well, so I’m looking after the kitchen for a while.’

More silence. She looked at Ginny, who shrugged.

‘Ginny tells me she usually brings your food up to you?’

She was beginning to wonder if he was even awake. However, she doubted anyone could have slept through the circus that was the Weasley family getting ready this morning.

‘I understand how hard this must be for you, but it’s not healthy to stay in there all by yourself.’

She wasn't sure what reaction she was expecting, but whatever it was she didn’t get it. She got nothing.

‘It’s been a fortnight since the funeral, George. You need a change of scenery. So I’m not bringing your food up anymore.’

She braced for an explosion. Still more silence.

‘I’ll leave a plate for you on the kitchen table. You don’t have to sit down and eat with us. You don’t have to see anyone if you don’t want to. But if you want to eat, you’ll have to come down. She really hoped she wasn’t laying down an ultimatum to a sleeping body.

‘I’m not trying to spite you. I can’t imagine the pain you’re in. But you have to keep living. We can’t lose both of you.’

Was it her imagination, or had the silence grown icier? She glanced over at Ginny. Tears streamed down the girl’s face.

‘We miss you, George.’

It was barely more than a whisper. She wrapped her arm around Ginny’s shoulders and led the sobbing girl to the kitchen. She needed a cup of tea.

\-----

It had taken a while for Ginny to run through her tears. Everything poured out onto Hermione's sympathetic, and slightly damp, shoulder.

Seeing her mother laid low had shaken Ginny to her core. Molly Weasley was the foundation that the Weasley clan had built their lives on. She was an impenetrable fortress, standing firm as the waves of life beat themselves to death on her ramparts.

Now, she was a castle under siege, walls torn down and the gates were breached.

Their foundation had shifted. Fred’s death had torn Ginny’s heart in two. Her mother’s breakdown was turning her world upside down.

Hermione wouldn’t be surprised if she had a few more teapot meltdowns.

Once Ginny’s tears had run their course, Hermione took the opportunity to look around the house. Breakfast dishes littered the kitchen. Dust covered the shelves on the walls.   
Soot stained the rug next to the fireplace. Gnomes ran amok in the garden. Washing baskets were overflowing with dirty laundry.

It was a far cry from the Burrow’s glory days. Survival had been more of a priority then housework during the war time.

Hermione took a deep breath and took an apron off the hook.

‘Right. Let’s get cleaning.’

\-----

That’s how Hermione found herself running the Burrow. Once the two girls had the kitchen and sitting room gleaming (as much as carpet and mismatched lounges can gleam), they’d taken lunch up to Molly and left a sandwich on the kitchen table for George. While she was supervising the scrubbing brushes in the hall (an idea she’d got from her favourite Disney movie), Hermione felt a tug on the wards she’d put around it.

‘I said you were going to have to come down, George Weasley. I will not be defeated by a simple Summoning Charm.’

There was no reply. Hermione waited. He still wasn’t coming down. She felt another tug on her wards. She grinned and called up the stairs.

‘It’s leviOsa. Honestly, you’re as bad as Ronald.’

‘That’s cold, Hermione. Nobody’s as bad as Ron.’ Ginny grinned as she poked fun at her absent brother.


	2. A Breakthrough and a Half

She’d been running the Burrow for a week, and George was still coming up with new ways to try and get past her. He’d started simple, using Summoning Charms with various distractions. About halfway through, he’d realised it wasn’t going to work, and had started trying in earnest.

First it was a boomerang-like product that had been very popular in the shop. Hermione had seen it coming down the hall and shut the door just in time. She’d sent it back with a note informing him that it was a nice try, but it wasn’t going to work. 

Then it was a garden gnome. He’d managed to get one from the garden and, using a variety of spells, had managed to get it all the way down the stairs and into the kitchen. It was just his bad luck that Hermione was brewing a pot of tea at the time. The gnome found itself a very long way from the Burrow, and George was once again thwarted. 

His next attempt had been very clever. She almost didn’t notice it… until it ran into her in the hallway. 

“George Weasley, what do you have to say for yourself?” She called up to his room, not expecting a reply.

“Nothing!” he surprised her by yelling back. She snorted.

“So this plate just grew legs and walked all this way by itself, did it?” She asked sarcastically. 

There was a pause. “Ginny did it!”

“Not bloody likely!” Ginny poked her head in from the kitchen. “But that’s pretty good, feel like teaching that spell to me?”

The most recent had involved Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder, a Muggle remote-controlled car and a fishing rod. Hermione had humoured him by placing a single half sandwich on the hook, along with a note that said “Very creative. What’s next?”

She’d thought asking him to come down for dinner was a bit much, and was taking that up for him. Really, she was impressed he was attempting to get lunch at all. 

After that disastrous first morning, she’d moved into the Burrow on a temporarily permanent basis, and was staying in Ginny’s room. She hadn’t seen Bill and Fleur since that first night, but they had been instructed to come to Sunday dinner. As a family, the Weasleys had decided that even though Fred was gone, the world needed to be cheered up, and had re-opened Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes two days after Fred’s funeral. Hermione had taken lunch across to Harry, Ron and Lee Jordan several times, and it always made her smile to see the crowds flocking to the famous joke shop. They’d keep it running until George felt up to taking the reins again. 

 

\-----

 

She’d just gotten back from one such lunch delivery when she found Ginny, sitting at the kitchen table and staring into a cup of tea. 

‘Penny for your thoughts?’ Hermione asked quietly.

‘They’re worth a darn sight more than that, I hope,’ Ginny replied with a half-smile.

‘A penny’s all I’ve got on me. I don’t even have a Knut,’ Hermione said. ‘I should have gone to Gringotts while I was is Diagon Alley.’

‘We can go tomorrow if you like,’ Ginny seemed slightly cheered by the prospect. ‘I’ve got some things I want to get from the Apothecary. And I was thinking about getting an owl of my own. Errol’s really old, and Pigwidgeon is, well…’

‘He’s Pigwidgeon,’ Hermione agreed.

‘Yeah. It’d be nice to have a pet of my own. I never had one. Ron got Scabbers, well, Peter, and no one else had a pet to hand down.’

‘Diagon Alley it is then,’ Hermione said cheerfully. ‘Though I assume that isn’t what you were thinking about. Do you want to talk?’

‘It seems kind of silly, and really selfish since Fred died and we’ve only just had his funeral and all, but... when we were in the final battle at Hogwarts, with all the Death Eaters, and the spells flying everywhere, and not knowing if you were going to live for more than a minute at a time, it was like we were really living, and… there was this moment of peace right in the middle of it all, where I turned around and I saw Harry, and he turned and looked at me and… and he proposed.’

Hermione gasped. ‘Ginny! Merlin, that’s so exciting. Why haven’t you said anything about this before?’

Ginny sighed. ‘Because it was all sort of heat-of-the-moment type of thing, and then Fred died, and I was so heartbroken. And Harry hasn’t mentioned it since.’

It all made sense. ‘And you’re worried he just asked you because you both thought you were going to die, and since you didn’t…’

‘What if he didn’t mean it?’ Ginny wailed. ‘I mean, I waited for him for so long, and then he left to go find the Horcruxes, and when he finally got back… but he hasn’t said anything, and I’m scared that he didn’t mean it, and I feel guilty because my brother died and I should be sad, and I am, I’m devastated, and then there’s Mum, but I’m also worried about Harry, and about me and about what this means for us and I feel like I shouldn’t be thinking about any of that because I should be focussing on Fred and on Mum, but I can’t stop thinking about it, even when I try, and I feel bad for not feeling worse, but I can’t, and that makes me feel worse, and I must be a bad person for not being more upset that my brother died and, and…’

She broke into sobs and quickly became incoherent. Hermione rushed around the table and pulled her into a hug. ‘It’s okay Ginny. Breathe. Come on, now, deep breaths. In… and out. In… and out. In…’

Once Ginny had stopped hyperventilating and the sobs had slowly turned into hiccups, Hermione drew back a little, still rubbing soothing circles on Ginny’s back. ‘How have you been sleeping, Ginny?’

‘I haven’t,’ she hiccupped. ‘I can’t sleep, everything keeps running through my head, round and round in circles, and I can’t stop it and I can’t sleep…’ This brought on a fresh wave of sobs. Hermione silently cursed herself for not seeing just how close Ginny was to utter exhaustion.

‘You’re not a horrible person, Ginny, you’re human. We know how much losing Fred hurt you, but we move on. It hurts a lot now, but it hurts a little less than it did a week ago, yes? And a little less than when we buried him,’ she felt the nod on her shoulder. ‘We can’t live in continuous pain, Ginny. Slowly, we heal. And other things start to come back. You can’t keep clinging to the hurt that Fred’s death caused, and it’s alright to be worried and upset about Harry.

‘That was a big thing for you. You’ve been waiting for him for so long, and then you had to give him up. And now with all that uncertainty… you’re allowed to hurt and confused and upset. It doesn’t take away from how much you love Fred, and it doesn’t take away from how much you love Harry. But have you thought of this from Harry’s point of view?

‘He asked you to marry him, and a couple of hours later, your brother was killed. Maybe he’s worried that Fred’s death has changed how you feel. You know Harry, he’s got a martyr streak a mile wide. He’s probably worried you blame him for Fred’s death, because Voldemort was after him.

‘Ginny, you just lost your brother. You needed, and still need, time to grieve and time to heal. Did you think that maybe Harry thinks the best way to help you with that is to take a step back and let you be with your family? He’s a boy; he has no idea that withdrawing was just going to make things harder for you. I bet that given time, he’ll come back, closer than ever. If you reach out to him, he’ll be there in a heartbeat. You didn’t see him while we were hunting Horcruxes, Ginny. Leaving you was one of the hardest things he ever did, and he’s not going to let you go for anything. He might not propose again soon, to give you the time he thinks you need, but if you ask him, he’ll be there for you no matter what.’

Ginny raised her head slowly and looked Hermione in the eye. ‘You think so?’ she asked in a tiny voice.

‘I know so,’ Hermione replied firmly. ‘Now let’s get you to bed. I’ve got a Dreamless Sleeping Draught somewhere, and you’re going to get the rest you so obviously need. Come on.’

Grabbing the potion, she led the exhausted girl up the stairs and tucked her into bed. ‘Sleep well, Ginny. Everything will look better when you wake up, I promise.’ She kissed her forehead like she would for a small child and left the room quietly. Oh the messes we create for ourselves. She needed a cup of tea.


	3. A Lesson in Family History

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Harry and Hermione agree to do things properly.

Harry seemed slightly surprised when Hermione pulled him aside.   
“Harry,” Hermione began kindly. “You’re not a girl.”

Harry looked confused. “Thank you?”

“So it’s entirely possible you don’t realise what an idiot you’re being.” He opened his mouth to protest, but she talked over him. “I know you think you’re being kind to Ginny by giving her space, but the poor girl is an emotional wreck. You can’t just propose in the middle of a battle and then say nothing for a month.”

Harry opened his mouth again. Hermione ignored it. “Yes, I know her brother just died. No, she doesn’t blame you. Yes, she still wants to marry you. No, it wasn’t a spur-of-the-moment, change your mind later thing. Yes, she’s upset with you for not mentioning it again. No, not upset enough to say no. Yes, you actually have to propose again, and by the way, I would recommend doing it with an actual ring this time. No, she’s not going to make you beg, but I think it’s traditional for you be down on one knee anyway.”

Harry looked slightly shell-shocked. Hermione thought for a second. “Did you actually get down on one knee the first time?”  
Harry shook his head mutely. 

“Ah. There’s your problem. Honestly, if you want it to stick…” Harry just blinked at her. She rolled her eyes. “Honestly. People these days. No sense of humour. I love Ginny. She’s like a sister to me. She is a sister to Ron. I would expect four big brother speeches coming your way. Five, if George manages to get out of his room in time.” She thought for a moment. “Is there anything I’ve missed?”

Harry looked at her for a moment. “Hermione, you’re a girl right?”

“Yes,” she said in a tone of voice that said ‘just where the hell do you think you’re going with this?’

“So… you know what girls like,” he trailed off, as if expecting her to understand.

“I’m good, Harry, but I’m not a mind-reader. I walked out of Divination, remember?” 

“Well… I just… Idon’thavearingyetsoIwashopingyoucouldhelpmefindone.” Harry blurted out.

“Gesundheit?” Hermione smiled kindly at him. 

“I don’t have a ring yet, so I was hoping you could help me find one,” he said more slowly.

“I would love to,” Hermione beamed, giving him a hug. “You didn’t have any plans for today, did you?”

“Well…” Harry gestured outside, where the Weasleys were preparing for a game of Quidditch.

“I didn’t think so,” Hermione pulled out a mobile phone. “Just let me make some calls.”

\-----

Harry was beginning to doubt the brilliance of the plan. They’d been to three shops so far, and Hermione had insisted on looking at everything. Even worse, he’d yet to see anything he thought Ginny might like. 

All the shop assistants were so eager and expectant, and he really hated to disappoint them, but none of their rings worked. 

They’d started off in Diagon Alley, but just as Hermione had assured him, there was nothing there. Oh, there were pretty bracelets and necklaces, but none of their rings even came close to what he wanted for Ginny.

That was the other problem. He had no idea what he wanted Ginny, other than the fact that he’d know it when he saw it. 

Hermione had assured him he needed to get back to his roots, and had taken him to Muggle London. He’d been looking at his roots for the past four hours, and was having just as much success as he’d had in Wizarding London.

She was saying it again. “You just need to get back to your roots, Harry. I’m sure you’ll find the perfect ring when you get back to your roots.”

“I’m at my roots, and it’s working about as well as looking at my leaves did,” he grumbled as she pushed open the door to the next shop.

“Hello,” Hermione smiled at the shop assistant. “We’re looking for an engagement ring.”

The girl was really excited. “Oh, that’s so sweet. How long have you been dating? How did you get together? Was it really romantic? I bet it was, you two make such a cute couple. When’s the big day?”

Harry and Hermione exchanged a glance. “Actually, she’s not my girlfriend,” he broke into the girl’s gushing. She blinked.

“Actually, I’m the best friend,” Hermione smiled apologetically. “I’m here to make sure he doesn’t get anything… gaudy.” She turned to Harry. “Is ‘gaudy’ the word I’m looking for?”

“I think that’s the word you used,” he replied evenly.

The girl turned pink. “Oh, I’m so sorry! Well, congratulations anyway,” she smiled awkwardly at Harry. “Did you have anything in mind?”

Twenty minutes later, Harry heaved a sigh of relief as they stepped out of the shop. They were still empty-handed, but at least they were out.

“I’m sorry, Harry,” Hermione said, rubbing her temples. “I really thought it would help going back to your roots.”

Harry interrupted her. “No, it’s okay. Besides, I’ve got an idea.”

He steered them into a side alley and grabbed Hermione's hand before Disapparating.

They reappeared in Diagon Alley, on the steps of Gringotts. Hermione turned to him.

“But Harry, we’ve already looked here!”

“Not here we haven’t,” Harry said, walking inside. Speechless, she followed him up to one of the counters. The goblin peered distrustfully at them. 

“I’d like to access Vault 1173,” Harry said firmly. 

“Key?” The goblin asked.

Harry shrugged. “It’s with the vault manager.” He rummaged through his pockets and withdrew a slightly crumpled envelope, which he presented to the goblin. The goblin opened it and produced a very thick wad of papers. “Last page,” Harry supplied helpfully. With a glare, the goblin turned to the last page. Whatever he saw there apparently convinced him.

“Very well. Follow me,” the goblin commanded, leading them through the building to a small counter tucked into the corner. 

The goblin behind it looked up at the intrusion. He was handed the envelope without a word.

“Vault 1173? That’s a very old vault. Who wants to get inside?”

“That would be me,” Harry said. The goblin glanced at him. 

“Wand?” Harry pulled it out of his pocket and watched as it was placed onto a strange set of scales. A few seconds later there was a ‘ding’ and a small slip of paper slid out of nowhere. The goblin peered at it.

“Very well, Mr Potter. Just a moment.” The goblin turned and disappeared down a corridor lined with tiny wooden drawers. 

Harry caught sight of Hermione's bewildered expression. “It’s the Potter family vault,” he explained. “I only found out about it a few days ago.”

“But you came of age a year ago,” Hermione protested confused. 

“Well, we were on the run all last year. Apparently they’ve been trying to contact me since Bill and Fleur’s wedding, but I fell off the grid.” He grinned at her. She sighed.

“Funny.”

Harry’s explanation was cut short by the arrival of the goblin, holding a small tarnished key. “There are a few… formalities we must follow, Mr Potter. Not that anyone doubts your identity, but we are legally required…”

Harry nodded and shrugged. 

Ten minutes later he was soaking wet, and his hand ached as he followed the goblin back to where Hermione was waiting. She burst out laughing at the sight of him. 

“What happened to you?” she asked between giggles. “The waterfall of ‘Oh-my-gosh-I’m-no-longer-Bellatrix’?”

He nodded. “The waterfall of ‘Oh-my-gosh-you’re-no-longer-Bellatrix.’ And a whole lot of signing.”

“So,” Hermione began as they followed the goblin to one of the carts. “The Potter family vault? I thought your vault was the Potter vault?”

Harry shrugged. “Turns out the one I’ve been using is just a trust vault my parents set up. So there’s my vault, my parents’ vault and the vault of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Potter.”

“Pretentious, much?”

“What can I say?” Harry grinned. “We’re old money.”

The vault of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Potter was a very long way underground, so it was a rather long time later that the cart stopped. Harry took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. Hermione watched, amused.

“You alright?”

“I feel like I’m… I dunno, about to face my grandparents.” He whirled to her, suddenly terrified. “What if they’ve got portraits in there? What if I actually to face my grandparents?”

She laughed. “You faced Voldemort on your own, but you’re scared of your grandparents?”

He shrugged uncomfortably. “Well I’ve never met them before, have I? What if they don’t like me?”

“You’d never met Voldemort before, and he definitely didn’t like you,” she laughed.

“You’re not helping, Hermione!”

“Harry, it doesn’t matter if they like you or not. They’re oil and canvas. Your real grandparents died years ago. Besides, there’s nothing they can do about it. You’re the heir to the Most Noble and Pretentious House of Potter.”

He seemed to consider that for a second. “Fair point. I hadn’t actually thought of that.” After all, Mrs Black’s portrait screamed and Sirius still inherited the house.

The goblin handed Harry the key and he opened the door to the vault. 

The room was vast. Off to the left were mounds of glittering Galleons, piled to the ceiling. To the right was a maze of beautiful old furniture.

“Harry,” Hermione half-whispered after a second. “When you said ‘old money’…”

“I didn’t expect this either, Hermione,” Harry said weakly. 

The goblin cleared his throat, bringing them both back to earth. “We’d better start looking,” Harry said, walking further into the vault. Hermione walked after him, running her hands over the carved furniture. She had soon lost sight of Harry, who was moving more quickly than she was. The goblin stayed near the door, keeping an eye on both of them. 

Hermione turned a corner and gasped. There were bookshelves overflowing with books. She ran her fingers over their spines. These were worth a fortune; there were hundreds of original manuscripts and first edition books. She was itching to pick them up and read them. The goblin chuckled. 

“Mrs Potter enjoyed reading too,” he remarked. 

“Which one?” Hermione asked curiously.

He thought for a moment. “Most of them, I believe.”

Harry’s head poked back around the corner. “Go, enjoy the books,” he said, in a kind yet slightly patronizing way. 

Hermione couldn’t quite muster the glare she thought the comment deserved. 

A few minutes later, Harry’s voice sounded again from even further in. “How many dining tables did we need? I’ve seen at least four already…”

“The quantity of tables does not indicate the amount used during every generation. Several have been in the vault for over three hundred years. New furniture was bought every few generations as a tradition, I believe,” the goblin explained. “The carved oak table was deposited by your great-great-great grandfather in his youth, and he purchased a new one, which was in turn deposited by his son.”

Harry retraced his steps. Hermione was practically drooling over an original Hogwarts: A History, which despite being several hundred years old, looked to be in much better shape than her copy.

“You can keep that if you’d like,” he offered. Hermione was speechless. He grinned as she opened her mouth and a slight gurgle came out. “Yes, I know it’s very old. No, I don’t mind you keeping it. Yes, I really mean that. No, I’ll actually never read it. Yes, I know it’s worth a lot. No, my children can get their own copies. Hermione, just take it.”

Her mouth opened again to protest, but her hands were already holding the book close and stroking its spine. He turned to the goblin. “Have you been managing this vault very long?” he asked. The goblin thought for a moment.

“I took over as vault manager as your great-great-great-great grandfather became Heir to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Potter,” he answered.

“So a while then,” Harry said with a smile.

The goblin grinned back. “Yes.”

“Would you know how this vault is organised? Not that it looks very organised, but…”

“Your father had no particular interest in the organisation of the vault once your grandparents’ possessions were deposited. Is there something I can help you find, Mr Potter?”  
“I don’t know if they’d be in here, but if they were, where would I find old wedding and engagement rings?” Harry asked.

“Oh, Harry!” Hermione whispered. “That’s perfect.”

“Over here, sir,” the goblin led them to a very old wardrobe. “I regret that it isn’t a complete collection, as some Mrs Potters opted to be buried with their wedding rings, but those   
we do have will be in here.” The wardrobe looked like it hadn’t been opened in twenty years, and the hinges creaked as Harry pulled on the doors.

There, on the various shelves, covered by years of dust, sat rows of velvet boxes. Harry and Hermione began to open boxes, exclaiming over their contents.

“Oh, Harry, look at this one. It’s stunning.”

“Hermione, isn’t this gorgeous?”

They must have gone through a dozen boxes before Harry flipped one open and froze. “Hermione,” he said in a hoarse whisper. “This is it.”

Hermione looked over his shoulder. “That’s the one,” she agreed quietly. It was a fairly simple ring, but elegant in its simplicity. A row of tiny diamonds sparkled through years of dust. “It’s perfect.”

Harry closed the wardrobe and they moved towards the front of the vault. “Did you find what you were looking for?” the goblin asked. Harry showed him the ring. “Ah. That, Mr Potter, was your grandmother’s ring.”


End file.
